How To Trust
by Sop12345d
Summary: Hiccup is abused almost daily by his father, Alvin Hadden. But one day, a miracle happens and his father is arrested. But now where does that leave Hiccup? Rated T for descriptions of child abuse and mild swearing. Modern AU.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:**

 **Hello there! I know I should really update my other fics, but this idea kept popping into my head and I wanted to get it down. It's a modern AU where Alvin is Hiccup's abusive father.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own How To Train Your Dragon, DreamWorks does. So, I don't own anything you recognize. I just own my OCs.**

 **Without further ado, voilà!**

* * *

Chapter 1:

I held my breath as the front door slammed downstairs, signalling my father's return from work, or wherever he went while I was at school. The stack of overdue bills on the table said that he didn't work, but who was I to judge?

Anyway, I gripped my pencil tighter and considered hiding in my closet. I had been in the middle of doing homework when Alvin Hadden, my father, had practically knocked the door off its hinges, home again. I jumped with a yelp of terror when I heard heavy, pounding steps on the stairs, coming up to get me. I stood hastily, my math papers drifting to the floor, and tried to prepare myself the best I could. I know I should've been already used to this, considering that it had been going on since I was quite little - well, _littler_ \- but I still got terrified, even though this was a daily occurrence.

"HICCUP!" my father yelled, pounding down the hallway. I shrank against the wall, feeling my body trembling with fear. "WHERE ARE YOU?"

He finally entered my room, eyes bloodshot and breath rank with alcohol. _So he's been drinking again,_ I thought. Suddenly, the air was forcefully expelled from my lungs as a meaty fist slammed into my ribcage. I gasped for air and fell sideways, curling into a ball. More kicks and punches rained down, along with yells of, "YOU FILTHY, USELESS THING! YOU KILLED HER! THE LOVE OF MY LIFE, AND YOUR WORTHLESS EXISTENCE KILLED HER!"

He was talking about my mother, who had died in childbirth 15 years ago, when I was born. My father blamed me for her death, hence the heavy drinking and daily uncontrolled beatings. I hid the bruises and bumps under long-sleeved shirts and long pants at school, but I think my wincing was getting the teachers' attention, because these days I was getting more and more suspicious and/or concerned looks from them.

With a final kick and a murderous glare, my father stood up to his full intimidating height and moved to stumble away to pass out on the couch downstairs for a few hours. But, as he entered the hallway, police sirens wailed to life just outside, as if they'd snuck up to the house, then decided to announce their rather loud presence when they were ready. I had a few seconds to wonder why there police sirens outside my house and why they would suddenly appear, instead of me hearing them from a distance, getting closer, but then a loud, deep voice yelled, "Alvin Hadden! Come out with your hands above your head! You are under arrest! The house is surrounded!"

 _Well, that answers that question,_ I thought groggily, rubbing my head. I had hit it on the way down to the floor and I sincerely hoped I didn't have a concussion. Those were _not_ nice. I looked to my father, wondering what he would do. He was swearing to himself vilely, crushing the whiskey bottle in his hands. He stomped down the hallway, probably going to give the police outside the house an earful. I shuddered, trying unsuccessfully to raise myself on my elbows to get up. My knees knocked together and my legs were unsteady, so I only got up for a few seconds before collapsing again. My heart jumped in my mouth when I heard the front door slam again, but I knew that this time it was my father going _out,_ not in. A loud commotion breaking out between my father and the police was the last thing I heard before my world went black.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **So? Is it any good? This is my first time writing a child abuse fic, so go easy on me.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize, I just own my OCs. DreamWorks owns How To Train Your Dragon.**

 **To reply to a random person's review, no, Stoick will not take Hiccup in. Stoick isn't in this story. The people who take Hiccup in will be OC.**

* * *

I woke up slowly to the beeps of heart monitors and the drip of an IV. I inhaled through my nose and smelled a nauseating mixture of sickness and antiseptic and knew immediately where I was. How I had gotten to a hospital when I'd just been at home, I had no idea. I opened my eyes carefully, squinting an first at the scrubbed brightness to the room I was in. I looked around and saw that there was a petite blond woman wearing a floral shirt and blue jeans sitting in a chair next to me, writing something on a clipboard. She didn't seem to have noticed that I had woken up yet. I shifted slightly on the bed, the pain from my most recent beating only coming to me now, even through the pain killers dripping from a bag into my arm to my right. My rustling must have alerted the woman, because she looked up at me and a bright, cheery smile that looked like it could banish the clouds covering the sun grew on her face, looking like it belonged there.

"Hi Hiccup!" the woman said cheerfully, never stopping smiling. "I'm Ms. Summers. How are you feeling?"

I guess it was the pain killers, or maybe the possible concussion, but I was still feeling too groggy to properly register her words and make an appropriate reply, so I closed my eyes and fell back asleep.

* * *

When I woke again, there was a new person by my side, along with Ms. Summers. The new person was a woman in a white lab coat, like a doctor in a hospital would wear, with black hair in a ponytail and kind brown eyes. The apparent doctor was gently shaking my arm, trying to wake me up with a soft, "Hiccup. Hiccup, wake up."

I inhaled the hospital air into my lungs again, trying to make myself more aware. I still didn't really know who these people were or how I had gotten here.

"There you are, Hiccup. How are you feeling?" the doctor asked with a smile. She got out her own clipboard and a pen, obviously waiting to write down my progress.

"I-I'm okay, I guess." I stuttered, my throat dry. The doctor quickly noticed this and picked up a glass of water from a side table and handed it to me. I took it gratefully and drank - well, _gulped_ \- the water down, feeling its moist coolness wetting my throat.

"That's great," the doctor said after I handed her the now empty glass back and she replaced it on the side table. "My name is Dr. Sam. Can you remember your name?"

 _That's a dumb question,_ I thought. Why wouldn't I? "I do. My name is Hiccup Hadden. Where's my father and why am I here?" I asked, getting straight to the point. To hell with politeness now, I needed to know what the hell was going on.

"Well, you see, Hiccup," Ms. Summers started from behind Dr. Sam. "Your father was arrested for refusing to pay his bills and taxes. He's also being held on suspicion of child abuse."

My throat constricted at hearing her words. My father was _arrested?_ And they knew about the daily beatings?

Ms. Summers sat on the edge of my bed and took one of my small, thin hands into hers. She gave that warm smile again that was starting to make me feel warmer inside too. "Hiccup," she said softly, looking into my eyes. "I know this must be hard for you, but there are going to be some changes from now on."

I tensed at that, wondering what she meant. When I was healed from whatever injuries I had sustained from my father's latest beating, where was I going to go if Alvin was in jail? Don't get me wrong, I almost couldn't believe that he was finally gone and couldn't get to me anymore, I was so thrilled. But my mother was dead and none of my relatives had kept in touch, so I had no idea where that left me. Would I be kicked out on the streets when I left here?

"Wh-what changes?" I asked tentatively, even though I knew that I was probably speaking out of turn. However, I was just burning to know what would happen to me.

"Well, for one, you're not going back to that _house_ you were living in," Ms. Summers replied, saying the word "house" like it was a swear word. Yes, it was true that my house was pretty beat up and dirty, as my father hadn't really cared about keeping up appearances. "And secondly, we found a foster family for you. They're a really nice mother and daughter and they have a small dog. Here's their file."

She handed me a folder with a picture of a smiling girl who looked to be around me age with curly black hair and a wide grin and of a woman in her late forties with short brown hair and clear brown eyes. They lived in the capital in the suburbs and the girl, Sophia Silverthorn, was 15 years old and attended 10th grade at her local high school. The woman, Sophia's mother, was named Joyce Silverthorn and she was an accountant.

I handed the file back to Ms. Summers, who must be a social worker or something if she was the one arranging this. I wasn't interested in being forced to live with people who were complete strangers.

"Do you like them?" Ms. Summers asked me, an eager look on her face.

Against that expression, I didn't stand a chance. "Yes," I answered, rather reluctantly, because what choice did I have?

* * *

A day later, after much medication prescriptions and form filling (apparently I _did_ have a mild concussion after all), I was released from that damn hospital and into the care of Ms. Summers, who was driving me to the capital, which was a few hours away.

The nurses actually put me in a wheelchair, despite my protests that I was _fine,_ and that I could walk _by myself._ Apparently they didn't believe me because I was shushed and wheeled, rather humiliatingly, out the front doors with everyone watching curiously. Ugh.

They even helped me into Ms. Summers' SUV, for god's sake. Finally, _finally,_ I was buckled in and Ms. Summers was in the driver's seat, ready to go. Ms. Summers tried to make some conversation during the drive to my new temporary home, but I didn't feel like it and gave short, one-word responses, and she eventually fell quiet. Meanwhile, my thoughts were racing a mile a minute. What were the mother and daughter like? The file had given me facts about them, but it didn't tell me what type of people they were. I decided to be on my guard when we got there, just to be safe.

The rest of the drive went by in a haze, with me trying and almost failing not to fall asleep, since that was bad to do when you had a concussion. At last, we arrived at an average-looking, plain red brick house. It wasn't big, yet it wasn't small. It wasn't gorgeous, yet it wasn't ugly. It was just... _it._

Ms. Summers honked the horn and got out of the car, moving to the back seat to help me out. I huffed and ignored her hand, stepping out the car with a barely suppressed wince. It may have been easier getting out had I accepted her help, but I was 15 and I could do things myself. I'm not helpless.

Sophia and Ms. Silverthorn stepped out of the house then and I could hear a fierce and furious barking from inside. I swallowed nervously, hoping they didn't have one of those huge, menacing dogs with big teeth, but then I remembered the Silverthorn file and how they had a small dog. Wow, that was one hell of a pair of lungs for such a small dog, then.

"Hello! You must be Hiccup!" Ms. Silverthorn greeted me. "We're happy to have you stay at our home."

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Silverthorn." I answered, not taking the hand she held out for me to shake.

She didn't seem to mind and just took her hand back, her body language relaxed and her smile easy. "This is my daughter, Sophia," she introduced, indicating the curly-haired teenaged girl behind her. "Sophia, say hello."

"You don't have to tell me what to do, Mom. I'm 15, not 5." came the terse reply. She looked me up and down, then simply said, "Hey."

"Hey," I said quietly, observing her annoyed expression, though it seemed to be directed to her mother, not me, thankfully. While we had been exchanging greetings, Ms. Summers had grabbed a bag with my stuff in it from my old house (she had packed it while I was unconscious in the hospital) and gave it to Ms. Silverthorn, saying, "Here's Hiccup's things. Oh, and here's my business card, if you need anything." She pulled out a small white card from her sweater's pocket and handed that to Sophia, since her mother had her hands full with my things. I felt bad that she had to carry all of my heavy stuff, but I refrained from asking if she wanted help, in case that offended her.

Ms. Summers pulled me aside and gave me another one of her business cards, telling me, "Hiccup, I have to leave now, but here's my contact information if you ever need me." I took the card from her and she pulled out a small blue cell phone and handed it to me as well. I must've shown my confusion on my face because she said, "That's a cell phone you can use to contact me and Sophia and Ms. Silverthorn if you're ever separated. Sophia can help you set it up later, right, Sophia?" This last comment was directed to where the girl was standing, arms folded, on the lawn.

"Yes, Ms. Summers."

"Good. Now, you be good, Hiccup," Ms. Summers said to me, as if I was a child she was dropping off at daycare. "I'll be back in two weeks when school starts."

And with that, Ms. Summers got back into her SUV and left, leaving me with two complete strangers, all alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:**

 **Btw, I just want to say that I in no way encourage or support child abuse. It is extremely wrong and I hope that one day there will be no children on Earth who have to fear violence from adults.**

* * *

I watched Ms. Summers' SUV drive off into the distance sadly, feeling lost. I glanced down at the cell phone she had given me. It was a reasonably recent model, not too fancy, with a slide-out keyboard and a plain black exterior. I heard someone clear their throat and I looked up, startled. For a second there, I had almost forgotten that I wasn't alone.

"Do you want to come inside?" Sophia asked, taking a couple of bags from her mother's arms as she did so and heading towards the front door. Her question was a casual one, thrown over her shoulder as she yelled almost immediately after, "Stella! Shut up, for God's sake! I'll be inside in a second." It seemed that she was talking to the still-barking-furiously dog inside the house.

Ms. Silverthorn quickly followed her and I almost had to consciously will my legs to follow them into a house I had never been into before with people I practically knew nothing useful about. However, I eventually made it into the house by reasoning with myself that if I didn't, I'd have nobody and nowhere to go and would probably end up starving on the streets. Sophia closed the door behind me and locked it with a _click_ that to me resounded through the house, but the girl next to me seemed not to have noticed it. Maybe it was just me being overly nervous or something. I'm quite jumpy.

Anyway, as soon as we were all inside, Ms. Silverthorn put my bags on the stairs to our left and announced, "Welcome to our house, Hiccup. Sophia, why don't you take Hiccup's things upstairs to his room and show him around a bit? I'm going to make lunch." And with that, she sauntered off into the kitchen, leaving me with Sophia.

She yawned and stretched. _Did she just wake up?_ I wondered. _God, I hope my coming here didn't wake them up early._ Sophia then sighed and grabbed my bags easily, showing me how strong she was as she could pick up four relatively heavy bags and lift them above her hips to get up the steep stairs. She was halfway up when she finally realized that I was still on the main floor. She turned around and somehow gestured with her hands full to follow. "Come on," she prompted impatiently. I jumped and hastened to follow. I was quickly figuring out that Sophia was pretty impatient.

We had just gotten to the second floor when I heard a scampering of feet behind me coming up the stairs and something small, furry and brown slammed into my calf, easily knocking me over. Then again, I must weigh less than 100 pounds; a light breeze could bowl me over.

I swore in surprise, then immediately covered my mouth, horrified. My dad had definitely _not_ supported swearing in the house and I was afraid that Sophia would tell on me to her mother. However, she didn't say anything other than, "Oh, that's Stella. She's three years old, weighs eight pounds and thinks she owns the block. Don't worry about her, she just gets a bit overexcited by strangers in the house sometimes."

 _Overexcited, my ass,_ I thought. The dog was currently jumping up and down like a spring with her tongue hanging out and her eyes pointing in two different directions with the whites showing. The combination of Yorkshire Terrier-like colouring and an oriental-type skull structure lead me to believe that Stella was a mixed breed.

Sophia turned and walked into a room in front of us that I hadn't noticed before because I had the breath knocked out of me by an dog that weighed less than ten pounds. I quickly got up, shoving away the crazed Stella and stopped short in the doorway, full of awe.

The walls were a light blue, the curtains a navy blue and the window showed a view of the street outside with a few neighbours. At my old house, I hadn't had a window in my room. There was a twin bed with a white comforter and green pillows in the corner and a plain wooden side table beside it with a funky-looking lamp on it that seemed to have a bendable neck, like those meant for desks in normal children's rooms.

I loved it.

Sophia misinterpreted my hesitation in the doorway and said, "Sorry about the colour scheme. My mom thought it went well together but you and I both know it looks weird."

"No... no, it's fine," I whispered, still amazed by the fact that this room, or dare I say it, _my_ room, was clean and airy and had a _window,_ for Pete's sake. It was overwhelming.

She put my things on the bed and brushed past me, grabbing my thin wrist in the process. I yelped, startled by her iron grip, but she loosened it after a second, as if realizing her mistake. She pointed with her head to the rest of the hallway, saying, "Come on. I'll show you the rest of the house."

With that, she tugged me along behind her and she showed me her bedroom, which had basically the same layout as mine but with more decorations and souvenirs. Then she and I popped our heads into her mother's room, letting me get a glance at a king-sized bed with a striped comforter and a small TV. "Don't go in there unless you have to," Sophia advised and I nodded quickly. Stay out of the way of the adult, got it.

She showed me the bathroom me and her would be sharing, then we went downstairs again and Sophia showed me the living room, which was full of plants, the dining room, which had more plants and Stella's crate, where the dog slept apparently, the kitchen, where Ms. Silverthorn waved at us cheerfully (she seemed to be one of those chipper types) and I waved back uncertainly, the family room, which contained a couch, a rocking chair and a bookshelf, and the downstairs bathroom.

Finally, Sophia pointed to two doors. "This one on the right is the door to the garage, which is _absolutely_ full of furniture and storage boxes and such," she told me. I was a bit confused. Why tell me this? Did they expect me to clear their garage out or something? Ah, that must be it. I wondered briefly how much time I would be given for the task. "And this door," Sophia continued, "is the one to the basement. I'll show it to you." She grasped the doorknob and turned it, prompting a protesting yet ominous _creeaak_ from the hinges. I cringed at the staircase shrouded in shadows. That, along with the usual damp smell of a basement, reminded me all too well of the decrepit state of my old house with my father.

We walked down the carpeted steps and arrived in an open area cloaked in darkness. Suddenly, a hand reached out from the darkness to my right and I shrieked, falling back. Lights flickered on and I was graced with the image of Sophia, standing over me with her hand still on the light switches and chuckling. "Afraid of the dark, Hiccup?" she asked innocently.

"N-no," I answered, trying to get my breath back and stop my body from shaking so much.

"Here," Sophia offered, holding a hand out to me. I was unsure what she wanted at first, but then I got it and tentatively held her hand, prepared for her to pull me up. However, I was not prepared for the immense pull that nearly had me falling in the other direction face-first. God, she was strong. I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

"Thanks," I muttered, not wanting to seem impolite and cheeky. My father had hated it when I had been "cheeky", as he had called it.

"No problem," she said carelessly, wiping her hands on her pants and walking further into the basement. I jumped to follow before I lost sight of her, but the basement wasn't that big. She led me to one corner of the room, where a big TV sat on the floor with a video game console plugged in and a couch in front of it. She sat down on the couch and I stayed standing, uncertain as to whether I was allowed to sit on the furniture at the same time as her or not. My father hadn't allowed it on the rare occasions when he'd been less drunk and at home, but here it was all guessing games. At least at my old house I'd known the rules!

Sophia pointed at different things around the room. "That is a table and chairs, often used for when my mother and her friends get together for _card games,_ " she said, the way she said "card games" telling me exactly what she thought of such recreation, "and this TV and couch I use for my video games. That," here she pointed at two box springs one on top of the other in the very corner of the room nearby, "is like a temporary bed. If ever you feel like sleeping where it's cool, as this stupid house doesn't have proper air conditioning, that's a good place." I frowned. So, did she want me to sleep down here or in the amazing bedroom upstairs? I knew where I _wanted_ to sleep, but I had figured out a long time ago that nobody really cared what _I_ wanted.

She got up again and pointed out the storage room around the corner and the basement bathroom, which, surprisingly, had a shower. Then Sophia gestured to another door and said, " _That_ door is one you should never go through. It's a cold storage room and dreadfully messy."

I nodded to show that I understood and was about to ask when she wanted me to start my chores when Ms. Silvethtorn yelled from upstairs, "KIDS! LUNCH IS READY!"

"OKAY, MOM!" Sophia hollered back and she turned to me, saying, "You hungry?"

I wasn't sure what to say. I _was_ feeling peckish, but on the other hand, guilty that Ms. Silverthorn had to make lunch while I was here. _I_ was the one who was supposed to make the meals, right? I had always done it for myself and my father back at my old house. If I hadn't gotten dinner on the table by the time that Alvin had gotten home, I had gotten in _big_ trouble. "Um, I guess," I replied when a look of annoyance flashed across Sophia's face when I hadn't answered quickly enough.

"Good. Come on," she ordered, and I followed her up the stairs with my head down. We reached the kitchen and Ms. Silverthorn happily motioned to two bowls of salad on the counter beside her. Sophia grabbed one and gave the other one to me, which I nearly dropped, I was so surprised. I was eating _at the same time_ as them?

I watched Sophia walk off to the living room hesitantly, wondering if it was okay to eat away from the table here. That's what I would've done, but I could already hear Sophia crunching away on her salad in the next room. I decided to risk a question. "Um, Ms. Silvertorn?"

"Yes, Hiccup?" she answered sweetly, doing the dishes.

I let out the breath I'd been holding when she didn't immediately smack me across the face for asking a question. "Wh-where do I eat?" I asked, my voice getting quieter towards the end of the sentence.

"Pardon?" Ms. Silverthorn asked me. I took a deep breath and repeated my question a bit louder. "Oh, you can go join Sophia, honey." she replied. I nodded and was about to go when Sophia's mother called to me again. "Oh, Hiccup! You need a fork!" She dug a hand into the pile of clean dishes next to the sink and produced a fork, which she thrust at me, waiting for me to take it as she cleaned dishes with her other hand.

"Th-thank you, Ms. Silverthorn," I said softly, putting the fork into my greens.

"Please, dear, call me Joyce," she said with a wink at me.

I swallowed. "Thank you, J-Joyce."

Ms. Silverthorn turned her head back to the sink and I took that as a dismissal, so I left and found Sophia typing something on her own cell phone, which had a touch screen and a fancy case. She looked up and saw me there, standing awkwardly in the doorway, and motioned for me sit on an armchair. I did so, balancing my bowl carefully on my lap. With a final glance at Sophia, who had finished half of her salad by now, I started eating.

It was a pretty good salad, with olive oil, romaine lettuce, tomatoes, apples, black olives, mushrooms and feta cheese. However, I felt full halfway through my meal, so I put the fork down with a clang. Sophia glanced up, a frown on her face. "Something wrong?" she asked, confusion in her expression.

I quickly figured out that they wanted me to eat _all_ of the salad. It made sense, I suppose. It would be rude for me not to finish Ms. Silverthorn's cooking. "Nothing," I answered, trying to sound convincing.

"You full?" Sophia pressed on. She set her own empty bowl down on the coffee table and got up to walk over to me. I flinched back, expecting one of her muscled hands to slap me across the face for being so disrespectful, but all she did was grab my bowl and regard it closely. Then Sophia looked at me, waiting for an answer.

Oh, yeah. She hated it when you didn't answer right away. "Um, m-maybe," I stuttered. I winced at waited for the inevitable yelling to begin or for her to go tell her mother, which would be even worse.

"Okay," was all Sophia said, before taking her bowl and mine back to the kitchen, where I heard her inform her mother, "Mom, we're done. Hiccup got full halfway through his lunch."

I gasped, muscles tensed. Sophia _had_ told her mother! Oh, I was really going to get it now.


	4. Chapter 4

I tensed my body and squeezed my eyes shut in preparation for when Ms. Silverthorn came rushing out of the kitchen at me, but she never came. She just said, "Oh, okay then. Put his bowl there on the counter and I'll add it to the rest of the leftover salad."

My muscles relaxed in surprise and my eyes flew open. _What?_ She wasn't angry that I hadn't finished the food that she'd had to go to the trouble of making for me?

I didn't know what to think in this house. Every time I did something that would've guaranteed an explosive reaction from my father was nothing special to these people. I straightened and stood up when Sophia walked back into the living room with a frown on her face, thinking that she didn't like me sitting down when she was standing. But she waved at me to sit back down, so I did and she sat down opposite me in an identical armchair. "So, do you want to set up your phone?" she asked, pulling out her own.

"Uh, sure," I replied, confused. Admittedly, I had never owned a cell phone before. I had only seen the cell phones the other kids in my class at my old school using theirs. Hold on a second... where _was_ I going to school here? There were two weeks left of summer, so I figured that if the Silverthorns had bothered to send me to school, they would've registered me somewhere by now. Did I dare ask Sophia which school I was going to?

I was ripped from my internal monologue by the intense stare of the girl across from me, and when I noticed that, I jumped and hunched down, head bowing submissively. It was an instinctive reaction when I saw someone staring impatiently at me like that. I heard Sophia sigh, then say something I thought I'd never hear in all my life. "Hiccup, you know I'm not going to hit you, right?"

I looked up at her, startled, and saw the genuine look in her dark brown eyes. Sophia met my green eyes and held them, trying to convey a message of some sort. But what was the message?

"Um... yeah," I said lamely, but no, I didn't know that, not for sure. How could I know something like that?

"Well, I promise that I won't, and my mom won't either," she finished, leaning back into the chair.

"O-okay." Nobody, and I mean _nobody_ , had ever bothered to promise me something like that before. There had been promises of pain from my father and promises of humiliation from the bullies at my old school, but never promises of no violence towards me. Ever.

And just like that, the moment was gone and Sophia was back to typing on her phone. I held my breath, not sure what to do or say. Should I start on the garage now? I still couldn't think of any other reason for why Sophia had pointed it out to me. But then, the girl across from me looked up and set her phone down on the ottoman in front her. "I need your phone, please," she ordered, a hand outstretched.

I jumped to obey her and handed her my phone in a loose grip. Then, for a good fifteen minutes, I watched as she glanced periodically between her phone and mine as she set it up. Finally, Sophia apparently finished and handed it back to me, saying, "Okay, it's set up. I had to look up instructions on the Internet for how to set up that particular model, but I think I got everything. Oh, and I put in the password for the WiFi too."

I was suprised that she would do such a thing for me without being told to. It was... a nice thing to do, I guess. "Thanks," I replied, and meant it.

* * *

For the rest of the day, I listened to Sophia introduce me to her book collection (which I could apparently borrow from anytime - it seemed that she was a bookworm too!) and to her nonstop chatter about her summer so far and how crazy small this house was (it had said in their file that they had moved into this house just last year). I was surprised, yet pleased, to find that her chitchat was slowly putting me at ease, making me relax. It was nice to finally loosen up.

When it became time for bed, Ms. Silverthorn came into the living room to quietly inform us that it was eleven o'clock and that we should go to bed soon. I jumped and stiffened, immediately standing up from the couch. I may have gotten a bit more relaxed in front of just Sophia, but when Ms. Silverthorn joined the picture, I froze up.

"G-goodnight, Ms. Silverthorn," I stammered before trotting to the stairs.

"Oh, such a polite boy! Goodnight to you too, Hiccup. Goodnight, Soph." I paused in the middle of the stairs, surprised that the woman had bothered to say goodnight back to me. And she'd called me _polite._ When I'd been younger and more innocent and had still tried to get my father to love me, I would say goodnight to him every night, only to receive a grunt, or worse, angry yelling for disturbing him. I was still rooted to the spot in the middle of the stairway when Sophia came up behind me.

"Hey Hiccup, what's up?" she asked, poking me in the back. "Are you going to bed, or what?"

"Oh! Sorry," I said. "I just was thinking." And I rushed up the rest of the stairs without another word, closing the door as soon as I got into my room.

"Ookaay... then," I heard Sophia drawl from the stairs, then heard the sound of her feet continuing up and past my door, down the hall to her room before closing her own door. Then, she came out again and I heard her use the bathroom across from my room. Oh yeah! I had forgotten to brush my teeth. I dug my toothbrush and toothpaste out from one of my bags on my bed and poked my head out into the hallway.

It seemed that Sophia had returned to her bedroom and I could hear the sounds of dished being done downstairs, so Ms. Silverthorn wasn't close by either. I darted across the hall and into the bathroom, letting the door swing shut with a sigh of relief. I hated making an excess of noise or bother.

At last, I finished in the bathroom and dashed out again into the safety of my room. I put away my toothbrush and toothpaste, having not wanted to just leave them in Sophia's bathroom, and started to get undressed. As I did, I looked around my room in awe. My old room had felt so much more closed in and like a, well, _prison._ This thought made me remember my father, who was apparently in jail now. Funny; I had almost forgotten him after I'd arrived at the Silverthorn house.

Honestly, I couldn't say that I was sad that my father was imprisoned. Nor could I say that I was particularly happy, either. At least with Alvin, I'd always known where I had stood with him; here, I didn't know Sophie and Ms, Silverthorn well enough yet. I reflected on how Ms. Silverthorn had made us a salad for lunch today. Was that what mothers did? I couldn't tell, since I'd never had any friends and couldn't compare their mother's behaviour with Ms. Silverthorn.

Finally, I got into my pyjamas and gazed out the window into the street beyond. I cracked it open a bit and relished the myriad of nighttime sounds that flowed into my room: cars going back and forth, dogs barking, insects buzzing, a city bus stopping and dropping off passengers, the wind whispering through the trees...

And how could I forget the sweet, fresh air swirling in as well? To me, all these things spelled two things: freedom and change. Freedom, I could understand clearly enough, but whether or not the change would be a good or bad one, I didn't know yet.

I went to bed feeling oddly lighter than I'd had been in a long, long time. Until I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of someone screaming.


	5. Chapter 5

My eyes flew open and I sat up quickly, my breathing fast and shallow. The scream still echoed in the air, making my ears ring ominously, but the calm before the storm was quickly interrupted by the pounding of two pairs of feet coming my way from down the hallway. I gulped, scared that my waking Ms. Silverthorn and Sophia up would get me into serious trouble, like when I had woken up Alvin with my nightmares back at home. With that thought, I belatedly realized that it had been _me_ who had screamed so loudly. I, as always, didn't remember my nightmare. All I could remember was an all-consuming fear, similar to the fear that I felt during the day but somehow amplified. As soon as I became aware of this, my door burst open and Sophia and her mother rushed in, panting.

"HICCUP! Are you okay?" Ms. Silverthorn demanded, hair pointing in all directions in a classic bed head. I was too startled and too confused to answer her and instead glanced towards Sophia, but I quickly averted my eyes and blushed when I saw that she was wearing only a tank top and shorts.

Sophia, however, didn't seem to care, for she came closer to the bed, asking softly, "Hiccup? Did you have a nightmare?" Her eyes betrayed a wealth of compassion and care, but I wasn't ready for all the kindness that they contained, not yet. And who was I to say it was all real, anyways?

"Yes, but I'm really, very sorry that I woke you up. I promise it won't happen again." And I meant it. I would stay up all night if I had to, if only to prevent myself from ruining a potentially good deal here. It had worked at my old house with my father, as long as he wasn't too inebriated to be partially reasonable. And here, I realized, was where I could have a fresh start. Sure, I knew that it was only a foster home, nothing permanent, but this could be my starting point to a better life, if only I could control myself and not screw up, as I was apt to do. I tried to convey my eagerness to improve with my expression, but for some reason, it didn't please Sophia and Ms. Silverthorn. I spared a second for the thought that my life had always been only that, living to please other people, like my father, my exasperated teachers (a concussion does wonders for inattention in class) and the bullies that never ceased picking on me for lunch money or answers to a test, but all coherent thoughts fled when Sophia hauled herself onto my bed, giving her mother a significant look. Ms. Silverthorn, apparently understanding something that I am totally ignorant of, left and I heard her go back to her room, shutting my door softly on her way out.

I glanced nervously at Sophia, unsure of what was happening, but positive that she wouldn't want me to ogle at her current state of undress. "Hiccup," she started, staring at her lap and twisting her fingers together. "you know you can tell me anything, right? If you ever need me, I'll listen." And with that, she got up and left, turning off the overhead light on her way out.

I stared into the inky darkness, completely and utterly confused and more than a little nervous.

* * *

And that's how the next two weeks went by. I would get up, eat breakfast with Sophia, watch a bit of TV, walk Stella with Sophia (the dog had eventually grown used to me before promptly ignoring me in favour of attacking Sophia with licks whenever she was in sight, much to my secret amusement) and generally laze around all day. It was the strangest thing I had ever experienced in my life. At my old house, I had to mainly keep the interior of the house in order, such as doing the dishes and mopping the floors (especially cleaning up the vomit my father would leave on the kitchen floor after passing out from alcohol poisoning _again_ ); though I guess that now I can safely say that Alvin must've only had me clean for his amusement at seeing me work so hard for nothing, as by the time a day went by, the house would be a total mess yet again. Did he make a mess purposely? Well, I'd never know. Still, the days at the Silverthorns' house passed quickly, and all without me lifting so much as a finger around the house, to my great astonishment. Apparently, I didn't even have to clean out the garage, which I found out my third day when I finally asked Sophia about it and she just looked at me strangely before asking where I'd gotten such an idea.

Anyways, it was a peaceful existence, until the day before school started again and Ms. Summers returned to visit.

"Hiccup!" she exclaimed upon seeing me, looking me up and down. "I almost don't recognize you!"

I was surprised and looked down at myself, wondering what was so different about me that she'd bothered to mention it. I guess that I'd filled out a bit and my body was almost fully healed from my latest (or dare I say, _last?_ ) beating; I have always been a fast healer. You have to be to survive multiple beatings every week.

"Umm... thanks?" I replied. _Wow, that was articulate,_ I thought with a wince. _Way to go, Hiccup._

"Please, come in," Ms. Silverthorn invited the cheery woman. She did and we all sat around the dining room table, which could only seat two people.

"So, Hiccup, first things first: how are you finding your stay here?" Ms. Summers asked me, watching my face carefully. Did she expect me say that I didn't like things here and to whine for a different placement?

Well, I wouldn't, for four reasons: one, I felt a kind of horror within me when I even _thought_ of whining to an adult (the last time I'd tried that was when I'd been sick as a toddler and had cried for my father for a hug and he'd slapped me across the face); two, I didn't want to make Ms. Silverthorn angry (she _was_ sitting right there, after all, and would hear my every word); three, I didn't want to act like one of those spoiled brats who relentessly bullied me back at my hometown, always whining and complaining about how their parents had taken away their cell phone as punishment or how the teacher was being unfair in giving us "so much homework" (their words, not mine; I actually enjoyed homework, for it gave me a way to forget about my problems and for it gave me an excuse to hide in my room while my father crashed around the main floor, drunk), I guess it was a pride or dignity thing; and lastly, but most importantly, I actually, _genuinely,_ liked this house and these people. So far, they'd done nothing to hurt me and had, in fact, offered to help me, and not just with trivial things like setting up my cell phone. I hadn't taken up Sophia's offer on confessing to her all my thoughts and anxieties and fears, and I don't think I plan to, but I still liked them. So, I simply answered, "I like things here very much." And with that, I smiled a real smile, for the first time in a long, _long,_ time.


	6. Chapter 6

"Well, that's great!" Ms. Summers replied, completely oblivious to the accelerated thought process I'd just gone through to give her that measly seven-word answer. "Now that we've gotten caught up, let's discuss your schooling, Hiccup. You'll be starting grade 11 tomorrow at the same high school as Sophia here; Berk Academy, home of the Vikings. Isn't that great?"

I nodded, trying to look enthused on the outside, but on the inside, I was anything but. Any high school that had sports mascots called the _Vikings_ was surely to be rough, regardless of the "Academy" that came after the first part of the name. I paused, wondering briefly why anyone in their right mind would call _any_ place "Berk", whether it was a school or not. Hearing someone speaking, I jumped, focusing my attention back to the current conversation.

"... and we've been trying to get Hiccup placed in most of Sophia's classes so that he'll have a friendly face," said Ms. Summers to Sophia's mother.

I heard Sophia snort and mutter under her breath, "Goodness knows he'll need _one,_ what with that moron Snotlout and his posse." I puzzled over that bit of information, but ultimately decided that I'd find out what she was talking about the next day.

And oh _boy,_ did I find out.

* * *

I made my way down the steps to the main floor, newly-bought backpack in hand filled with my newly-bought school supplies. All of them bought, of course, by the Silverthorns, who had already done so much for me already. I had tried to protest, but they weren't having it. I told them I'd repay them somehow, but they brushed me off, and now I was nervous - why were they being _so nice_ to me? Yes, I knew by now that there was a likelihood that I wouldn't get hurt here, but hey, force of habit.

A short while later, I was packed, stomach full of breakfast, and ready to go. Standing at the intersection just up the road from Sophia's house, we waited silently for the bus. I could tell that Sophia was itching to speak, though; in the last 24 hours, she'd been more talkative then ever before. Something about going to school brought about a kind of second personality to her, I guess. I was queasy from nerves and the oatmeal I'd had for breakfast was rolling over in my stomach, so I didn't speak for fear of vomiting it all back up. Some time later, the bus _finally_ came, and I followed Sophia into it, glancing anxiously left and right.

I first saw him sitting at the very back of the bus, surrounded by who I'd guess to be the "popular girls" and some other guys; among them was a pair of fraternal twins laughing and somehow punching each other at the same time. I gasped when a hand grabbed my sleeve and pulled me roughly into a seat. Stiffening, I dared a peak at who'd just tugged me and sighed with relief when I saw that it was only Sophia. She wasn't looking at me, though. She was looking at the boy at the back of the bus with a glower on her face.

She finally looked away and nudged me, gesturing sharply with her head to where she'd just been glaring. " _That's_ Snotlout. He's arrogant, stupid, and likes to gang up on the weaker ones. Also, he's a terrible flirt. Thinks he's so goddamn handsome. Huh," Sophia grumbled. I could tell that she felt somehow resentful towards him.

I shrugged at her explanation, though. Every school has its bullies, and it seemed that I'd just found the next one that would torment me for the next two years. Looking around, I searched for any other people on the bus that looked even remotely friendly, but I only saw a rather overweight, blonde boy sitting alone at the front with a high-tech cellphone that he was furiously typing in and a girl with blue eyes and blonde hair sitting ramrod straight a few seats away, also alone. She somehow managed to achieve the "spiky, semi-gothic" look while wearing the mandatory black and red uniform with an axe as the logo by wearing pointy metallic earrings in her ears and her hair done up in spikes.

"S-Sorry to ask, but don't you have any friends at school?" I inquired to Sophia, who was sitting quietly, staring out the window. In all of the talk about classes and syllabi yesterday, I'd never once heard her mention having friends at the academy.

She startled, eyebrows jumping as she glanced at me quickly, then averted her eyes and answered curtly, "No," and left it at that.

* * *

The morning went well. In fact, it was pretty uneventful. First period was American history, where I was introduced to the class as a new kid and there was the expected gawking as I sat down in the back row next to the blonde girl from the bus, who I learned was called Astrid. She merely flashed a squint my way, then proceeded to act like I didn't exist for the rest of the period. Fine by me. Sophia was there, too. She sat in the very front row, trying to pay attention but I could tell that she was already falling asleep. I chuckled a bit; looks like American history wasn't Sophia's subject.

Second period was Biology. Sophia was, again, present. So was Astrid and the overweight blonde boy from the bus. When he kept raising his hand to participate (something I'd rather die before doing), I gathered that his name was Fishlegs, or something like that. At least, that's what I think I heard the bio teacher call him. How can anybody be called _Fishlegs?_ Then again, maybe it was a nickname of sorts - yeah, that made sense; I'd seen the guy's legs and they definitely didn't look big enough to hold up his large torso.

At lunch was when it happened. I was peacefully eating my prepared lunch (again, courtesy of Ms. Silverthorn) when Snotlout and the pair of twins from earlier walked, or should I say, _swaggered,_ up to me. I regarded them warily, taking in Snotlout's messy black hair, pale blue eyes, big arm muscles and the twins' long platinum hair (and yes, I mean the two of them - the boy's hair was as long as the girl's). All of them wore leering smirks.

* * *

Several arrogant remarks about my height, weight and intelligence, a few punches, a couple of kicks and all of my lunch money stolen later, I was lying on the ground, panting heavily and clutching my ribs. Sophia had left earlier to see about joining some club that we, as juniors, could finally attend. I stupidly hadn't been paying attention to her and had distractedly bid her, "See you soon." Now, I was regretting it. Maybe, if she had stayed, she would've helped me fend off Snotlout, Tough and Rough. Yes, I'd learned that the twin's names were Tough (the boy) and Rough (the girl). Again, they were probably nicknames. _Does everyone have a nickname here?_ I wondered dazedly.

Lying on the ground like that, I could feel any vibration in the dirty floor, so I heard the heavy footsteps coming my way. I gasped and jerked up, thinking it was one of Snotlout's friends coming to join the fun, but all I saw to my right was Snotlout, Rough and Tough's quickly retreating backs. _What the hell?_ Was there some sort of bully hierarchy here? Was there someone even _Snotlout_ feared?

I glanced to my left, then averted my eyes downwards, suddenly nervous. I recognized the huge man with red hair and a bushy red beard coming towards me (here was someone who looked like he could be an actual Viking). Someone who, at my old schools, was always some old, white-haired man who never gave a shit about what the teachers did, let alone in regard to the students.

The principal.


End file.
